Certainty
by Gunlord500
Summary: Renault x Lyn. COMPLETE! All 3 chapters are up for view I know this is a rather odd pairing, however, I did this for a Cracked Up Pairings Challenge a lady friend of mine asked me to, and I've never been one to turn down a request from a fair damsel:D :D
1. An Unexpected Meeting

The bishop reclined against the cold stone of the ancient ruins, eyes shut tightly in meditative concentration. The chill wind of Valor howled around him, drowning out the sounds of battle raging outside his decrepit sanctuary. The shadows cast by the archaic monoliths wrapped around him like an inky black veil, shielding him from the prying eyes of both warring factions. He certainly never expected a woman to break his years of solitude in such a desolate place, but more often than not, serendipity works in the strangest of ways.

She staggered into the ruins, seeking a brief moment of respite from the fighting going on all around her. Her long green hair was plastered to her sweat-drenched brow, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her rugged clothing, attire of a Sacaean plainswoman, was torn, ripped, and bloodstained in many places. In her exhausted state, she did not see the meditating priest until she had nearly collapsed on top of him.

"Oh! Who's there!" she cried, jumping back and drawing her sword. "What are you doing?"

The bishop opened his eyes, almost as surprised as she was. He certainly wasn't expecting any human intrusion into his solitary pilgrimage. But he saw the girl's battle fatigue and panic, and responded in the most soothing tones he could manage.

"Peace, child. I mean you no harm. My name is Renault. I'm merely on a pilgrimage, nothing more."

The woman sighed, visibly relieved. Her sword went back to its sheath, and she bowed her head in penance.

"A bishop? Forgive me, I didn't realize…"

"Think nothing of it."

As he gazed at her face, Renault was taken aback by what he saw. She possessed great beauty, despite the dirt, blood, and other detritus of warfare that concealed it. This was nothing new to the bishop, however. He had seen many gorgeous women during the course of his wandering. He had also learned how ultimately superficial such beauty was. There was something different about this girl, though—Renault couldn't put his finger on it, but this stranger possessed something beyond good looks, something he hadn't seen in a very long time. Even though it was against his better judgment, Renault had to know more about his new acquaintance.

"What is your name?" he inquired. "What are you doing here? You don't seem to be with the black-robed group I saw earlier…"

"My name is Lyndis of the Lorca, Your Excellency." The girl responded. "My allies and I stand opposed to the black-robed villains you describe." She tilted her head in curiosity. "Why are you here? This battle is nothing that need concern you! Please conceal yourself as soon as you can."

The bishop sighed, his voice heavy with sadness. He had seen many souls lost in war, yet for some reason, the prospect of Lyn's death seemed more tragic than the many others he had witnessed—and caused.

"There's no way I can convince you to lay down your arms, can I?"

Lyndis shook her head. "I'm sorry, Your Excellency."

Renault sighed again, and stood up from his kneeling position. Lyndis gasped slightly, and her hand inadvertently went to the hilt of her sword. Although Renault wore Elimine's sacred cloth, he was still a physically imposing man. He stood nearly 7 feet tall, and his rippling muscles, toned body, and chiseled features belied the soft and delicate stereotype of an Eliminean priest. The girl's reaction was understandable, and Renault merely smiled. He reached into his traveler's satchel and pulled out a loaf of bread, a canteen of water, and some succulent boiled-rabbit dumplings.

"Wh…where did you get those!" Lyn exclaimed, salivating slightly.

Renault smiled again, and held the treats out to the exhausted young woman. "These are just my traveling rations, Lyndis. Go ahead. You can have them."

Hesitantly, Lyn stepped forward, but stopped. "Your Excellency, I…I thank you for your charity, but I can't eat these. I should not take from a holy man's food!"

"Did Elimine not preach charity?" Renault replied. "I would be a poor bishop indeed if I did not offer you at least some aid. Please, sit down and eat with me, Lyndis. You're on the brink of collapse. Some food might help you regain enough strength to continue onwards."

"Well…I suppose you're right." Renault patted a spot on the ground next to him, and held out his potations. The young woman sat down and immediately began to devour her meal with gusto. She seemed to grow stronger with every bite. The bishop's heart lightened momentarily—at least he had been able to provide some modicum of solace to this battered girl. Yet, watching her eat, Renault grew more and more convinced that there was something quite unique about her. And he grew more determined to figure it out.

"Pardon me, Lyndis," he said, "But there's one thing I would ask in return for my hospitality."

"Of course, Father," the nomad replied in between bites of bread. "What do you wish?"

"I would like to know how old you are."

Lyndis blinked, startled at this odd query. "I'm eighteen, Bishop Renault."

"Eighteen!" Renault exclaimed. "A girl like you is fighting in battle?"

Lyndis shot him an icy cold glare. "I may be young, bishop, but I'm no little girl. I can handle a sword as well as anyone. The Lorca do not raise weaklings."

Renault drew back, realizing he had offended his new companion. "My apologies, Lyndis. I was merely curious."

"No, it is alright, Your Excellency. I should not have been as disrespectful."

They sat together in silence for a few minutes longer, as Lyn finished off the last of her food and began to down Renault's canteen of water. The bishop could not help asking one final question before the woman left him.

"Lyndis…what drives you to fight so?"

The swordswoman stared at him, perplexed yet again by this strange bishop and his puzzling questions. "What do you mean?"

"You're a beautiful, talented girl. I have no doubt you could live a life of happiness in some peaceful village far away from here. So why do you choose to fight?"

Lyndis stepped back, blushing furiously. "Bishop!" she exclaimed. "You have no right to-"

"I was not flirting." Renault said, his face as solemn and cheerless as a mausoleum. "I am genuinely curious. You have such great potential, Lyndis. Why do you choose to squander it on the battlefield?"

Lyndis was silent for a moment, convinced of the bishop's sincerity. She then looked Renault straight in the eyes, and gave him her answer.

"I do not expect you to understand this, Your Excellency," she said. "You have taken a vow of nonviolence, after all, and I do not intend to change that. However, there are things I am willing to fight for, and perhaps even give my life for. My friends are on a quest to save their homelands, and perhaps all of Elibe, and I will stand by them every step of the way. No matter how strong my opponent is, I will NEVER abandon my friends!"

As he stared into her eyes, Renault finally realized exactly what made this girl so special. There was clarity in those orbs, conviction, a firm sense of right and wrong, and the courage to adhere to that morality. Though this warrior had obviously seen battle many times, somehow, her soul remained untainted by the bloodshed. The weary bishop had been wandering across the face of Elibe for many, many years, but it had been a very long time since he had seen anyone even remotely like this fiery young crusader.

"I see." Renault said. "You're set on your path, and I cannot change it. That being the case, I give you this."

He reached into the folds of his robes and drew out a small, innocuous looking gray stone. Although it bore no distinguishing features, it seemed to pulsate with an strange power.

"It may help you live longer. Even if you face the misery of defeat in combat, you may yet find another path if you live."

Lyn pocketed the small charm. "You have my gratitude, Father."

"May you be watched over and protected in your venture, Lyndis." The bishop replied.

"Thank you, and you as well, Renault."

Invigorated by her repast, Lyndis unsheathed her blade and strode back to battle. Renault watched her disappear into the baleful miasma of warfare. Sighing sadly, the bishop gazed toward the skies above. The benign, fluffy clouds dotting a serene ocean of blue presented a bitter contrast to the chaos and misery on the ground below.

"Heed my prayer," he whispered. "There is still hope for that girl. I beg of you…do not take it away."


	2. Inescapable Dreams

The battle-hardened mercenary watched dispassionately as life fled the shocked eyes of the young swordsman standing before him. His hands tugged at the blade driven into his chest, trying desperately to escape the inevitability of his own death. The mercenary chuckled sadistically and yanked his sword free, smiling as his opponent crumpled to the ground. He had no time to revel in his victory, and immediately ducked as an arrow whizzed by his head. The warrior turned to get a look at his newest foe.

A muscular horseman sat on the back of his powerfully-built steed, pulling another arrow from his quiver as easily as if he had been doing it his entire life—which he likely had.

"What's a Sacaen doing here?" the mercenary called out. "You're a soldier for hire as well?"

The bowman nodded, then let loose another arrow. The mercenary lifted his shield just in time to keep the projectile from taking out his eye. Screaming, he raised his sword above his head and charged at the nomad.

"A swordsman on foot charging a mounted opponent?" the Sacaen muttered. "Admirable bravery, terrible tactics."

He put away his bow, unsheathed his own sword, and spurred his mount to meet the mercenary's attack. As his horse galloped towards the charging warrior, the nomad raised his weapon, preparing to strike at his opponent's unprotected head.

The mercenary smiled, lowered his sword arm, and hurled his shield at his opponent's mount with as much force as he could muster.

The buckler slammed squarely into the unfortunate horse's muzzle, and the animal reared up in pain and fear, tossing its rider off its back.

The nomad had no time to get his bearings before he felt cold steel at his neck and the mercenary's foot pinning him to the ground.

"Who…who are you?" were the Sacaen's last words. He barely heard his opponent's answer over the clashing steel and dying men's screams coming from all around them.

"My name is Renault." the mercenary whispered, and slashed open the horseman's neck.

The bishop woke drenched in his own sweat. He looked around himself. He was not surrounded by the corpses of his enemies, but by the ruins of another draconian citadel. He felt the pure, frigid air of Valor in his nostrils, not the smoke and fumes of a burning city.

"A dream," Renault sighed. "Only another dream."

Something was wrong, however. If it was only a dream, why were the sounds of battle still emanating from all around him? Renault stood up to survey his surroundings. Two armies were clashing right in front of him, and both seemed familiar. He recognized one side as the motley crew from the mainland he had run into a few months earlier. The other side, however, was comprised of what seemed to be pale, gray-haired humanoids with shining golden eyes.

Renault's eyes widened in shock. He recognized these creatures. Centuries ago, he aided a dark wizard named Nergal in creating them.

"Morphs," he murmured. "It seems I cannot escape my past after all…not even on Valor."

Suddenly, he heard movement from behind him. He turned around and readied his Lightning spell, prepared to strike down one of Nergal's puppets. Instead, however, he saw a familiar green-haired Sacaen.

"Lyndis!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Bishop Renault!" the woman gaped. "It's an honor to see you again, but we haven't the time to chat! There's a battle going on. Stay inside the ruins, I'll protect you!"

The bishop shook his head. "Not today, Lyndis." he said. "This time, I shall aid you."

"Your Excellency? Lyndis blinked in confusion. "Surely you're not serious! You don't even know why we're fighting"

"I am, Lyndis." Renault sighed. "I thought I could escape battle here on the Dread Isle. I'm not interested in why you're fighting. I am only looking for tranquility. If helping you will bring it to me, then I will lend you my power."

He looked at the book and staff he carried. "Not that I will be of much help…"

Lyndis smiled. "Any assistance you wish to provide would be appreciated, Father." Suddenly, she yelled. "Renault, watch out!"

The bishop whipped around and saw three pegasus knights bearing down on him and his companion. He opened up his Lightning book and began chanting the sacred verses, while Lyndis unsheathed her blade and prepared herself for the onslaught.

The pegasus knights lowered their lances and soared in towards the holy man and the plainswoman. Their foes were ready for them, however. Renault's chanting reached a crescendo, and he launched a volley of sacred energies at his attackers. Two of the knights managed to evade the spell in time, but the third suffered a direct hit, plummeting to the ground as it was burnt up by the searing heat of divine wrath. The remaining pegasi circled around and prepared to strike down the bishop as he readied another spell.

Lyndis would not allow that to happen. Flashing past the priest with blinding speed, she lept into the air and landed right on the back of one of the pegasi. The rider was in no position to defend herself, and Lyndis slashed her apart with one swift blow. As knight and pegasus crumbled into dust, Lyndis dove to the ground in a perfect roll that broke the force of her fall and kept the remaining knight's charge from impaling her. The pegasus knight made a U-turn in the air, determined that her foe would not escape her next attack. She swooped in and thrust her spear, aiming at Lyndis' heart. Swift as a cat, Lyndis sidestepped the blow and countered with a devastating upward slash of her sword, severing the morph's arm at the elbow. The emotionless creature did not cry out in pain or fear, but instead brought her mount around yet again, intending now to crush the nomad under its hooves. She never got the chance. A second blast of holy energy slammed into the morph, and Renault and Lyndis both sighed in relief as the cinders of the construct floated to the ground.

Lyndis' elation was short lived, however, as she looked behind her companion. It seemed as if his initial attack had not been enough to destroy the first pegasus knight, and the burnt, disfigured morph swooped in, bent on revenge.

"Renault, behind you!" Lyndis shouted, running towards the surprised bishop and tackling him with all her strength. She cried out in pain as the morph passed by and scored a nasty blow to her side. Grimacing, Lyndis stood up as the morph prepared to finish her off. The creature expected the wounded Sacaen to be easy prey, but Lyndis would not succumb so easily. As the morph flew in to strike, Lyndis dodged the blow and grabbed the shaft of the knight's spear, pulling her off her mount. Lyndis quickly drove her sword into her prone opponent. She breathed a sigh of relief again, knowing the battle was truly over, at least for now. The pain in her side reminded her that the victory had come at a cost.

"Lyndis! You're hurt!" Renault exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it, Your Excellency," she smiled, "It's not fatal. Good thing I have these elixirs…"

"No…I'll heal you, Lyndis. It is my fault you were injured in the first place…if I were anything but a fraud, my spells should have ended the battle quickly. Hold still."

Renault put his spellbook away and brandished his staff, an unremarkable piece of finely tailored oak wood. The aura of magic that surrounded it, however, proved it was much more than a decoration. Holding it out before him, Renault closed his eyes and chanted the words that would bring out its true power. The entire battlefield seemed to pulsate with light, and Lyndis felt the gash in her side stop bleeding and close up.

"Renault!" Lyn admonished. "I had medecine of my own! There was no need for you to have wasted your magic on my injury!"

The bishop shook his head. "It was my responsibility. You were injured on my account." He looked out towards the battlefield. The last vestiges of resistance guarding the entrance to Nergal's fortress seemed to have fallen. "The battle is over, anyways. Come. I believe we should rejoin the main force." With those words, Renault turned around and began walking towards the army he had just joined. Lyndis joined him, and the two marched side by side in silence.

The sky flared brilliant orange as the sun set over Valor. Eliwood's army had been allowed one night of rest and preparation before the final assault on Nergal's fortress. Everyone was busy getting ready for tomorrow's battle, and thus, few noticed the presence of a mysterious, white-clad stranger in their midst. Renault passed through their ranks like a ghost, watching them as they prepared for the most vicious battle of their lives.

It was a strange experience for the weary bishop. Renault had lived in solitude for many years, and for the first time, he was among fellow human beings again. Yet he felt more alienated than he had ever felt in his long life. An old, wizened knight sparred with his squire, attempting to impart a few new skills that just might save his ward's life. A purple-haired scholar sat with his nose in a book, voraciously devouring whatever knowledge he could find that would come in handy for tomorrow's siege. A Sacean swordsman sharpened and polished his weapon, ensuring it would not fail him in the coming battle. They were a motley, disparate crew indeed, but as Renault watched over them, he perceived they all shared something in common. However mundane their duties were, these soldiers completed them with a purpose, a drive, that the bishop had not felt in centuries, and perhaps never would again. They all had someone to protect, something to fight for, and most importantly, a reason to live. Unlike these men and women, nothing connected Renault to this world other than the fact that he could never quite summon up the will to take his own life. He walked through purgatory, taking the path of the cloth in hopes of salvation.

There was indeed a stark dichotomy between the anxious soldiers and the old priest, and yet it was a couple at rest which fully impressed the extent of the distance between himself and the mass of mankind upon Renault. As he meandered through the campsite, he paused to watch two lovers asleep under a large tree. A young girl with bright green hair lay nestled in the arms of a lean, muscular man with a pair of wickedly sharp daggers tucked into his belt. Renault knew this man was no ordinary fighter. The tone of his muscles and the strange weapons he carried were arresting enough, and the stench of blood seemed to hang thick about him, despite the fact the battle had long since ended. Even a completely ignorant observer could tell he was dangerous, and Renault had fought enough of his kind to know he was an assassin—the most proficient killers in Elibe.

And yet even this emissary of death had found peace, if not redemption, in the arms of another. His bloodstained hands cradled the girl's pliant form with such tenderness that it was hard to believe they had ever held a blade. As the assassin's breath mingled with his lover's, his eyes were shut with the same rapture one would see in a young child dreaming of his sweetheart.

Gazing at the tranquil couple, Renault couldn't keep himself from breaking into a sad sort of smile. "Even a hardened killer like you can find peace," he murmured quietly, "but such respite is denied to me, I suppose…"

"How can you be so sure of that, Your Excellency?" said a voice from behind him.

Renault turned around. "Lyndis?"

The green-haired woman walked up beside him, a small smile on her face. "Jaffar was a very different man before he met Nino, you know," she said. "A cold, emotionless, perfect killing machine. But just look at him now…look at how much Nino has changed him."

"Perhaps so…"

"Then Renault, how do you know you won't find the same peace?"

"I have been wandering…for a very long time. It is likely too late for me now." The weary bishop looked at his friend. "Enough of this…what brings you here, Lyndis?"

The young woman looked at the ground for a moment, then looked straight into Renault's eyes. "I'd like to ask a favor from you."

Renault stared at her, puzzled. "I will not likely be able to do much for you, Lyndis." He said.

"That's alright, Father. I'd be honored to receive even the least you could provide."

Renault nodded his assent, and Lyndis began to walk off, motioning for the bishop to follow her. They soon came to the tent of the portly storekeeper, Merlinus. All of the army's equipment was stored within its depths, which Lyndis disappeared into and soon returned from, carrying a fine silver sword.

"Lyndis…what is this?" Renault asked.

She held the sword out to him. "Your Excellency…I wish you to spar with me."

Renault blinked, as confused as ever. "I am a man of the cloth, Lyndis. What could you possibly have to learn from me?"

The swordswoman smiled. "You may wear sacred garb now, but just look at the tone of your muscles and the calluses on your hands. It's easy to tell you were once a warrior."

Renault sighed. "It seems my past will never cease to haunt me."

"Renault, please forgive me!" Lyndis exclaimed. "I didn't mean to insult you. It's just that…" she looked at the ground.

"What is it, Lyndis?" Renault inquired. "Why do you want to learn from me?"

She raised her eyes, and locked them into Renault's. "I have to become stronger. More than anything in the world, I have to help my friends. Eliwood and Hector have both endured so much…I WILL NOT allow myself to fail them now!"

For the second time, the weary bishop lost himself within the depths of the young woman's verdant eyes. He still saw the same strength and determination within them that had awed him the first time he had met Lyndis. Yet something was missing. There was conflict within those eyes, a sense of hesitancy. The absolute, unwavering sense of right and wrong—that certainty—was absent.

Seeing the storms raging within the young woman's soul, Renault decided that the least he could do was fulfill her request. "If it truly means that much to you, Lyndis, I will spar with you to your heart's content. I warn you, though, my sword arm is quite rusty. It has been a…long time…since I've held a weapon."

Lyndis smiled gratefully. "Even the smallest lesson you could give me would be appreciated, Father. Now, shall we begin?"

Lyndis unsheathed her blade and held it out before her, waiting for Renault to do the same. The bishop removed his white robes and carefully laid them on the ground. He was now barechested, clad only in his pair of worn traveling pants. Lyndis blushed slightly, but Renault paid her no heed. He gripped the silver sword he had been given, and as he did, a thousand gruesome memories flooded into his head. A small part of him cried out, but its pleas went unheard as Renault steadied his feet and readied his weapon.

The bishop was gone. The mercenary had returned. And Lyndis had no conception of who she faced. She began with a series of slow, sweeping slashes and cuts, intending only to gauge Renault's skill. He easily complied, blocking each of Lydis' attacks with only a flex of his arms and a flick of his wrists. The Sacean's eyes widened in appreciation. Even though her blows had been half-hearted, it took a skilled swordsman to deflect them without moving his feet so much as an inch.

Lyndis jumped back. "You seem to be better than you said, Renault." she commented.

The warrior merely nodded, and returned the compliment with an onslaught of his own. Raising his blade over his head, he brought it crashing down upon the young woman. She barely managed to avoid a blow that would have hewn her in two in a real battle. Renault continued with his assault, hacking madly at Lyndis with every ounce of strength he could muster. The woman did not even try to parry, knowing her strength was no match for Renault's. Instead, she dodged each and every one of his attacks, sashaying and weaving through his blows with the sublime grace and ease of the wind itself. Her long green hair floated about her like an emerald shroud, accenting her every movement. As she glided effortlessly away from the warrior's attacks, an observer would have thought her a trained dancer rather than a fighter.

Lyndis smiled. Apparently, her intial assessment of Renault's skills was wrong. He fought with the same uncontrolled brutality she had seen so many times before in common bandits and barbarians. Lyndis had fought enough of their ilk to know that victory would soon be hers. Renault came at her with a wide slash aimed at taking her head off her shoulders, and Lyndis saw her opportunity.

She darted under the blow and prepared to stab Renault's defenseless belly. A sudden change in the air above her told her something was amiss, however, and she quickly abandoned her thrust and dove to the side. Faster than she had thought possible, Renault had turned his blade in mid-slash and changed his attack into a downwards thrust.The wickedly sharp blade dug into the soft earth where, just moments before, Lyndis had been crouching.

"A feint!" Lyndis gasped, breathing heavily. "All this was nothing more than a trick! You were concealing your true skill!"

Renault merely nodded, and suddenly tore into Lyndis with a sudden flurry of attacks she barely managed to parry. The mercenary was brilliant. He thrust, stabbed, and slashed with a skill Lyndis had never before seen, relentlessly following her every every move as if he could read her mind. His blade whistled through the air with a speed Lyndis never thought his bulky muscles were capable of generating. Lyndis was kept entirely on the defensive, her sword arm closer to her than her enemy, too occupied with fending off Renault's vicious assault to conunterattack. The swordswoman reeled back, desperately seeking some reprieve from the mercenary's ruthless onslaught. Renault would not allow it.

He pressed forward, his blade coming at Lyndis from all angles, probing for some crack in her defenses. Lyndis was sure of it now—his previous attack routine was nothing more than a clever ruse designed to lull her into complacency. There was absolutely no similarity between Renault's feint and his present fighting style. Every cut, every slash he made was perfectly exact, perfectly accurate, and perfectly deadly. Every one of his movements was clean, efficient, and impeccably smooth, wasting not a drop of energy.

Despite his skill, there was a stark dichotomy between his fighting and Lyndis' swordsmanship. Renault posessed none of his opponent's grace, and rather than a work of art, his fighting was a horror to behold. Every move he made posessed a grotesque sort of malevolence, for the intent behind them was solely focused on murder. His muscles twitched and his arms flexed with a machinelike rhythm, bearing none of his opponent's beauty and passion, their mechanical precision lacking any purpose other than a bringing death. At that moment, Renault seemed more like an automated abomination than a real human being.

Lyndis worked her sword as fast as she could, her skills being tested as they never had before. She was forced back farther and farther, unable to keep up with the ferocious swordsman. A bright sheen of sweat reflected the waning light of the sun on the young woman's brow, and she found it took more and more effort simply to hold her sword aloft. Her opponent showed no sign of tiring, however, and indeed, it seemed as if his attacks were growing faster and stronger, his terrible dance building towards its dreadful crescendo. In the back of her head, Lyndis sensed that Renault was no longer sparring with a friend, but fighting to kill in some far-off battlefield he could never escape. As she blocked cut after cut, she realized she needed the mercenary to make a mistake to save her life. And when Renault suddenly rushed in with a quick one-handed stab to Lyndis' chest, she thought he had made that mistake. Renault's sword pierced through nothing but a few locks of green hair as Lyndis sidestepped his thrust and whipped behind him, far more quickly than he expected from his fatigued opponent. She brought up her blade, sensing victory close at hand.

Her exultation was cut short as Renault stepped backwards, retracted his blade, and smashed his sword arm's elbow into her gut.

Lyndis fell backwards to the ground in shock, clutching her stomach. The mercenary smiled in anticipation of another kill, and raised his sword above his head, preparing to slaughter the defenseless Sacaean. Lyndis looked up at her crazed opponent, and for one brief moment, the mercenary looked into the plainswoman's eyes once more.

The absolute terror reflected within those green orbs dispelled the bloodlust that had overtaken Renault. A wave of guilt flooded through him as he realized what he was about to do. He immediately tossed his weapon aside and bent to tend to the friend he had almost killed.

"Lyndis, I…I…" he bent his head. "Please…forgive me. I'm so sorry."

Lyndis blinked, astonished by Renault's sudden change in demeanor. Such remorse was etched into his weary face, however, that she could not help but believe his sincerity. The mercenary was gone. The bishop had returned.

"It's alright, Renault," Lyndis gasped, trying to alleviate the tormented man's terrible guilt. "You merely knocked the wind out of me, that's all."

"A…are you sure, Lyndis?" Renault said, and he knelt to hold the plainswoman in his arms. "I am truly sorry, my child. I…I allowed my inner demons to consume me. Please, let me tend to you. I fear I may have injured you."

As Renault held her in his arms, checking her pulse and ensuring he had not smashed any of her bones, Lyndis was again astonished by the transformation the man had underwent. He was truly the best swordsman she had ever fought, and ordinarily, she would be consumed by curiosity to learn more about him, and perhaps learn from him. Yet he fought with such hatred, and exuded such a terrible malevolence, that Lyndis was not awed by his skill, but repulsed by its malignance. The horrid aura which surrounded him was completely gone now, however. It was hard to believe the mercenary and the bishop were the same man. Where moments ago she had felt the blackest of terror, Lyndis now felt warmth, comfort, and security as she never had before.

She laid one soft hand on the bishop's bare chest. "Please, stop, Father. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Lyndis, I…I almost killed you!"

"It was I who first asked you to spar with me. And I should be grateful to you for your lesson! I never expected someone as…bulky as you to move so quickly. I'll certainly be careful not to underestimate my foes from now on!"

"A teacher is of little use if he murders his student…"

"You're exaggerating, Renault. Do you think I'm weak enough to be laid low by a little sparring?"

Renault shook his head, although Lyndis could tell he was still wracked with guilt. "I can help you up, at least." He said, and lifted his former opponent to her feet. Lyndis watched him as he walked towards his discarded robes. He had been a warrior like her, and yet his own sense of doubt and guilt had led him to toss down his weapons. After the harrowing battles she had been through, Lyndis could not help but sympathize with this mysterious stranger. And after watching him fight, deep inside herself, a tiny seed of hope began to grew within Lyndis. Perhaps she had found someone who would understand her, as not even her closest friends were able to.

"Renault…you've taught me much, and I thank you for that. Still…I have one last favor to ask of you."

Renault turned towards his friend. "You may ask of me anything you like, Lyndis…I owe it to you."

"Your excellency…I am not a religious woman, and I'm especially not part of Elimine's flock. But I wish to ask of you, just this once…I would like to make a confession."

Renault lowered his eyes to the ground. "You have seen me fight. I wear the garb of Elimine, but even after all this time…I am still a murderer at heart. I am nothing but a fraud, my child. I can offer you no solace. I am sorry."

Lyndis shook her head. "I don't think that's true, Renault. You could have killed me, I know that. But you didn't. You stopped yourself. I can't imagine the ordeals you've been through. But to triumph over an inner demon like that…to conquer your rage and hatred like you did…any god worth worshipping would be smiling upon you right now."

"Lyndis…I'm not worthy of such praise."

"Please, Renault. You must be much stronger than you believe if you can lay down your weapons after a life like yours. I ask that you…you only lend me some of that strength."

"…very well. I will not be of much use, but I should at least try. Sit down, Lyndis, and leave the burden of your sins to me."

Night had fallen upon Valor, and both bishop and Sacean were enveloped by its icy kiss. As they sat side by side on the frost-encrusted grass, neither of them paid it much heed. Lyndis closed her eyes, breathed in the chill air, and began her story.

"My mother was named Madelyn, the daughter of the lord of Caelin. My father was Hassar, cheiftain of the Lorca tribe. I have nothing but fond memories of both of them. My mother's gentle smile, my father's calm voice, and the endless sea of grass that we and our tribe lived upon."

A shadow passed over her face as these happy memories gave way to darker ones. "All of this ended 3 years ago. My parents…along with the rest of my tribe…were killed. No…no, they were massacred. A host of bandits fell upon us during the night. They were utterly merciless…I was one of the few who managed to escape."

"What happened to you after that, Lyndis?" Renault asked. "How did you survive?"

"After the attack, I lived by myself in the wilderness for several months. My friends and family were all gone, and I only had one thing to sustain myself…revenge. Hatred of those who slaughtered my kin was all that kept me going in those days. I trained and trained, learning everything I possibly could about the blade, all so that someday, I might take vengeance for my murdered parents. And ever since I joined Eliwood's army, I've been motivated by this same desire. I believed every battle we fought was in the name of justice. I believed every enemy I slew was an evil criminal just like the ones that killed my parents. All this time, I have been fighting with the belief that I was protecting those around me from the same pain I had to endure."

"Do you still have such faith in your cause, Lyndis?"

"I…I honestly don't know anymore, Renault. All this…changed…when I met a man. His swordsmanship was so perfect it might as well have been a work of art. Yet he was a kind person as well. You could tell just from his eyes…he fought to protect the innocent and weak, just like I did."

Regret clouded Lyndis' eyes as she continued. "Even though he was a good man…we were on opposite sides on the battlefield. And he died fighting us…fighting me."

"I see…"

"Renault…for the first time in my life, I am…uncertain. Every time I raise my sword, I feel doubt. I no longer sure that our cause is completely just, and our enemies irredeemably evil…I…please…I beg of you, tell me…am I wrong for feeling this way?"

Renault stared at her for a moment, his stolid, expressionless face passing no judgement on the anxious young woman. And then, for the first time in many years, the bishop broke into a wide, sincere smile. "You have no reason to fear, Lyndis. Your doubt does not make you a coward. It makes you…human."

Lyndis stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Lyndis…there is a difference between fighting for justice and fighting blindly. There is a difference between a crusader and a fanatic. The fact that you feel this guilt does not mean that you are a coward, but that you have not lost your humanity. Look at the morphs you've been fighting for so long. They feel no remorse, no sorrow for the lives they take. They merely kill mindlessly, having no conception of the evils they commit. If you were posessed of such blind fanaticism, how would you be any different? If it wasn't for your doubt, what would make you any more than a puppet that kills?"

"But…Renault, I…Lloyd didn't deserve to die!" Lyndis cried. "He…he was Nino's elder brother. Even though Nino was adopted, he treated her like his flesh and blood till the very end. And…and when I fought him, I saw no hatred or evil in his eyes. Only sadness…Renault, he didn't deserve to die. But I killed him anyways…"

"And what would have happened if you didn't fight back, Lyndis?" Renault asked. "If you did not defend yourself, he would have cut you down. You cannot blame yourself for being his enemy. I've seen countless men and women who deserved nothing but long, happy lives…taken by the cruelties of battle. You did not deserve to die any more than he did, Lyndis, but you had no choice but to fight. It is not your fault. That is the tragedy of warfare. If there is one person who deserve blame, it is the man who started this war…the man whose morphs you are fighting."

"Nergal…" Lyndis murmured, and Renault nodded, having suffered himself from the treachery of the dark magician.

"Only by defeating him can this struggle come to an end, Lyndis. If you want Lloyd's death to have meaning, you must stop Nergal. Only then can you ensure that no more innocent lives are lost."

"I see…perhaps you are right, Your Excellency." Lyndis smiled, and Renault could see peace settling across the troubled woman's face. "I am truly grateful, Renault. Your words have cheered me immeasurably. I…I cannot thank you enough for your kindness."

"There is no need. I simply listened when you needed to speak, nothing more."

"That means more to me than you know, Father. My parents are gone and my grandfather is deathly ill. Hector and Eliwood have been through too much for me to burden them with my insecurities. I've had no one I could speak openly with for so long…you're the first person who would actually listen to me. With you, I don't feel so…alone…"

"It is a clergyman's duty to provide aid for those who ask. I am…glad…I have lessened the weight upon your soul, Lyndis."

Both of them said nothing after that—no more words were needed. Renault sat and gazed at the stars, the same constellations he had travelled under for many years. They seemed more beautiful than they ever had before, and the bishop wondered if this was not due to the friend sitting beside him. The weary bishop had always felt cut off from the rest of mankind, a foreigner wherever he went. Yet sitting next to Lyndis, this sense of isolation was not so acute. Renault felt an attachment to this woman that seemed to lighten the dreary mists of his personal purgatory.

The chill winds of night had long closed their grip upon the bishop and the Sacaen, but neither noticed. Their shared companionship provided all the warmth they needed.


	3. The Righteous Path

Renault walked through the busy marketplace, his footsteps drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Bulgar's citizenry. He certainly presented a strange sight—few Eliminean priests were possessed of his chiseled features and toned muscles—but the commercial center of Sacae found many outlandish travelers passing through it, and the bishop drew little attention as he worked his way through the crowd. Striding briskly past an armory and a blacksmith, the bishop was reminded of what he hoped was the last war he would ever have to fight in. It had been weeks since Eliwood's army had returned victorious from the Dread Isle, but Renault still remembered the final battle with Nergal as if it happened yesterday.

The bishop was no stranger to combat, and had seen many wars in his supernaturally long life. Before taking on the vestments of Elimine, he himself had cut short many lives at the end of a blade. Yet the end of Eliwood's campaign was truly unrivalled by anything Renault had experienced before. He had never encountered opponents as implacable as Nergal's twisted morphs, nor had he ever seen dark magic comparable to the warlock's black arcana. Even more memorable than the villains of Valor, however, were the heroes that rose to meet them. Renault would never forget the image of the pirate's axe smashing through morphs left and right, or the Archsage Athos finally defeating Nergal, ripping apart his shield of darkness with the holy power of the Arial spell. And, of course, there was the dragon Nergal unleashed with his dying breath. Renault smiled as he imagined bards all across the land retelling the story of Eliwood's desperate charge against the beast, spurring his mount through its fiery breath and thrusting the Durandal straight through its scaly chest.

Despite all the great warriors he met in Eliwood's army, the extraordinary adventures he had, a single face stood out from all the others in the turbulent seas of Renault's memory. He sighed as he thought again of Lyndis, her beauty surpassed only by the clarity that shone within her bright green eyes. Renault did not say a single word to her after the campaign was over. He had disappeared in the night as if he never existed, and he wondered if the first friend he had in years took any note of his departure.

"What foolishness." he murmured to himself, his voice lost in the din of the marketplace. "Why would she remember a pilgrim like me? She has likely forgotten I exist by now…"

Lost in his own thoughts, the distracted bishop didn't notice the woman walking straight towards him until he crashed into her. She reeled back, losing hold of the heavy bag she was carrying. It crashed to the ground, spilling forth its contents of food, blankets and other necessities.

"Forgive me, madam," Renault said, ashamed of his absent-mindedness. "I should have been more careful. Please, allow me to assist you."

"It's alright, I'm fine." the woman laughed, and bent down to collect her provisions. But when she looked up at the bishop, her eyes widened in shock. "Renault?"

The pilgrim stepped back, taken completely by surprise. He had honestly never expected to see that soft skin, that flowing hair, and those beautiful, verdant eyes again, but here they were. "Lyndis?" he gaped. "I…I apologize, I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Neither did I, Your Excellency." Sadness dimmed her eyes for a moment, and she burst forth with a question. "Where have you been? You simply vanished after the last battle…I didn't even have a chance to bid you farewell!"

Renault smiled. It warmed his heart to see his earlier predictions were wrong—Lyndis did remember him. "I'm sorry, Lyndis. I…did not wish to trouble you. I am on a pilgrimage, after all. I thought it was best to head off to my next destination as…quietly…as possible."

"I understand, Renault. But what brings you to Bulgar?"

"Nothing of great importance…I merely needed to purchase a few supplies, and then I would continue on my journey."

"So you won't be staying in Sacae for very long? This truly is a beautiful land. Are you not allowed to see what it has to offer?"

Renault shook his head. "I am not a tourist, Lyndis. I'm not journeying for sightseeing."

She drew back, and though she was still smiling, Renault could see he had hurt the girl. "I…apologize, Lyndis," he said. "I didn't mean to insult your homeland. Sacae is a lovely place…but the responsibilities of my pilgrimage will not allow me to enjoy such things. Please understand."

"I do, Your Excellency. But…" Lyndis looked down for a moment, concern etched into her features.

"What is it, Lyndis?"

She looked up at her friend. "You seem so…tired, Renault."

The old priest blinked, and stepped back. Wandering for so long, this was the first time he realized it. He was tired. So long had he walked the face of Elibe, and only now did he realize how heavy those steps were becoming. Weariness permeated every bone in his body. His heart beat laboriously within his chest, and the bishop understood the full weight of the pain, guilt, and regret it carried across all his travels. He gazed at Lyndis, the woman who perceived what nobody else, not even he, could see.

"You're right, Lyndis," he sighed. "I am…tired. Very…tired."

She smiled knowingly. "It's not just your body that's worn out, Renault. I've seen my fair share of battles, and if fatigue was all you were suffering from, you could have just spent the night in an inn…"

The bishop merely nodded.

"Then why don't you spend some time in Sacae, Father?" Lyndis asked. "You body and soul are exhausted. You need a reprieve from your journey, Renault. Let me show you Sacae. Let me show you the plains I grew up on. I'll even let you stay in my home for a night! It may not be much, but you need rest…"

Renault shook his head. "I…I shouldn't, Lyndis. It isn't…proper. I should not place a burden upon you." He quickly turned and began to walk away, closing his eyes and trying to deny what he so desperately wanted. His penance would allow him no respite, and it was his duty to resist temptation.

Lyndis would not let him escape so easily, however. She grabbed the bishop's arm, pulling him towards her. "Please, Renault!" she cried, refusing to let him go. "Just one night…please…"

Renault was taken aback by the young woman's desperation. Yet as he looked at her face, he saw something more than concern for a simple pilgrim. Tears brimmed along the edges of her verdant eyes, and her lips trembled in a silent plea for his assent. The bishop realized that his companionship was important to this woman—she needed him.

A pang of guilt darkened the bishop's heart for a moment. He was a clergyman, and he had vows to uphold. His pilgrimage would allow him no wasteful dalliances to distract from his atonement. And in any case, by staying with the girl, he risked encouraging her infatuation with him, and would inevitably cause her pain.

He looked again at the distraught woman clinging to his arm. She truly did need him. How could he simply abandon her when all she desired was someone by her side? If his companionship was all she asked, he'd be a poor bishop indeed if he denied her that simple kindness.

And in any case, it wasn't as if they were running off on some lurid tryst together. She was simply offering him rest and repose, and the weary bishop desperately needed them. What was the harm in staying with her for a single night?

"Very well, Lyn," the bishop smiled. "My pilgrimage will do me little good if I am too exhausted to learn from it. A single night under your roof will do me no harm."

Lyndis beamed, clearly overjoyed by the priest's decision. Now holding his hand rather than his arm, she led him out of Bulgar's gates and towards the green ocean beyond.

Renault sighed as he walked across the grassy plains, and for once, his exhalation was a sign of satisfaction. The cool summer breeze swept over his face like a restorative balm, washing away all the troubles and cares of his weary heart. The fresh, clean air that filled his lungs infused his soul with new vigor. Renault felt the broadest, most sincere smile in years spread over his face. Lyndis watched her contented friend, warmed by the lift in spirits she had been able to affect in him.

"Lyn…you were correct." the bishop remarked." It seems this detour has been…good for me. I thank you."

"There's no need, Renault. I'm just glad to see a smile on your face."

The two friends walked silently together for the rest of the trip. Words were unnecessary to convey the serenity they both felt. The beauty of the quiet plains intermingled with the warmth of their companionship created a sort of intangible barrier around them, and not even the passage of time could intrude upon their shared sanctuary. Hours passed like minutes, and neither was aware of anything more than the soft whistle of the wind and the delicate crunch of grass under their partner's footsteps. Neither noticed that dusk had fallen when they reached their destination, an unassuming round hut—a ger, a traditional Sacaen dwelling.

"We're here!" Lyndis exclaimed. "This is my home. It's not much, but it will at least provide a roof over your head."

"It will suffice." Renault smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lyndis. I am indebted to you."

"Think nothing of it, Your Excellency."

They entered the small hut together, and it became obvious Lyn was not a rich woman. The walls of her hut bore no adornment other than traditional and ruggedly utilitarian Sacaen drapes. She had furnished her home with little more than simple cabinets, chests, and drawers, which contained little more than clothes and foodstuffs. A small cot in the center of the hut served as Lyndis' bed, but she relinquished that comfort for her guest. The plainswoman laid out a blanket upon the bare floor of the ger for herself.

Despite the spartan décor of his lodging, Renault found it not at all disagreeable. Indeed, he felt a certain comfort in the midst of a Sacaen's frugality. The place had wholesomeness, a purity, which would have been obscured by the ostentatious trappings of nobility. During his travels as a mercenary, the bishop had seen many a palace bedecked in all manner of opulence, yet such splendor had never evoked in Renault the same sense of security he felt within the walls of Lyndis' home.

Despite the coziness of her abode, however, Renault sensed an underlying gloom inside its confines. Loneliness permeated every inch of the little ger, and as Renault wandered about the small dwelling, he could feel the weight of the isolation Lyndis lived under—isolation almost as acute as his own. And as he watched the girl survey her empty hut with a sort of resigned sadness, he felt again that Lyndis had reasons other than simple generosity for bringing him here.

"This is a pleasant home, Lyn." Renault said. "Surely you share it with someone else?"

Lyndis shook her head. "I…live here alone."

"Is that so? I remember you mentioning to me that your mother was the daughter of the marquess of Caelin…could you not return there?"

"No, your excellency. My grandfather…died…a month ago. I abdicated rule of Caelin to Ostia and returned to the plains of my birth…"

"I see…Lyn, I apologize for my intrusion. Please accept my condolences on your loss."

"It is alright, Your Excellency." She looked down at the floor for a moment, then straight into Renault's eyes. "Father…please…if you could do one more favor for me…"

The priest nodded. "What would you ask of me?"

"Can…can you answer me one question?"

"I will try."

Lyndis sat down upon her cot, and invited Renault to do the same. She closed her eyes, sighed, and began. "We fought together on the Dread Isle. We fought together in the final battle against Nergal. You've seen me in combat…I am a skilled warrior, am I not?"

"You are, Lyn. One of the finest I've met."

"And yet…" her lips trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "And yet…what good has it done me?"

Renault blinked. "Lyndis? What do you mean?"

"My grandfather was the only family I had left. When I joined with Eliwood and Hector, I thought only of protecting him. Nergal's assassins had already made an attempt on his life, and I wanted to ensure they never did again. I traveled all across Elibe, fighting battle after battle, to stop Nergal and protect my grandfather. And when we finally defeated that blackheart, I thought I could finally see my grandfather again…"

"Lyn…you cannot blame yourself for your grandfather's death. He was old, and he was a human being. There was nothing you could have done."

"Then what was the point?" Lyndis cried, and tears ran freely down her cheeks. "I fought so hard…won so many battles…and I still couldn't save my grandfather. Why…what was it all for? Please…tell me…"

Renault was silent for a moment. He looked straight into Lyndis' wet eyes. "This is the true reason you brought me here…is it not?"

"I…I'm sorry, Renault." Lyndis sniffled. "I…I've been alone so long…I needed someone to talk to…please, forgive me. I was selfish…I'm…I'm so sorry…"

The bishop shook his head. "It's alright, Lyn. I am a man of the cloth…it is my responsibility to help those in need…and to be honest…I…understand how you feel. More than you know."

Lyndis blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I told you I used to be a mercenary. But…a long, long time ago…I…I used to work for Nergal."

Lyndis gasped in astonishment. "You were allied with Nergal?"

"I am old, Lyn. Very old. But once, I was young. And in my youth, I was foolish. I lived a brutal, violent life. I killed innumerable people for my own ends. But on one day, that all changed…I lost…my best friend…the man who had stood by me through all my terrible exploits. When he died, I wanted only one thing…to bring him back to me…"

Lyndis stared at him silently, and Renault could not tell if she was judging him or not. Regardless, he pressed on with his story.

"I wandered, blinded by my heartbreak…I was vulnerable. I was an easy target…and Nergal took advantage of that. His voice called out to me in the night…and I followed it. When I found him, I became his assistant. He promised to bring my friend back to me…and I believed him. I swallowed his lies, and helped him in his dark schemes…I helped him create his morphs…all because I thought he would revive my dead friend…"

"So you were taken in by Nergal as well?" Lyndis asked. "That foul monster…he has deceived so many people for his own ends…"

Renault shook his head. "Nergal is a liar, Lyndis…that is true. But I was a monster long before I met him. And I suppose Nergal is the one who showed me the error of my ways. When I was his servant, I committed crimes worse than any I ever had before…I slaughtered so many people to satiate his voracious appetite for quintessence. And then one day, I had finally acquired enough for him to fulfill his promise to me…he had enough to bring back my dead friend…but I was fooled. The creature he brought forth…was nothing more than a puppet. There was no light in its yellow eyes…it was just a soulless mannequin. I lashed out at my master, desiring revenge for his deception. Yet even the greatest mercenary in Elibe was no match for him. He banished me…cursed me into something less than human. And on that day…I learned that all my skill with a blade, all my amazing prowess in battle…could not bring my friend back to me…"

"Renault…"

"I understand exactly how you feel, my friend. I learned just the same lesson. A blade can end a thousand lives, but it cannot bring back a single one."

"So…it was all for nothing, then!" Lyndis shouted. "I fought so hard…I fought for my grandfather…but I'll never see him again!"

The bishop simply looked into the girl's grief-stricken eyes, unperturbed by her outburst. "It is true, Lyn. All your valor, heroism, and triumphs in battle were not enough to stay your grandfather's death…but they did stop great evil from consuming the land he loved. And at the very least, I believe they made him proud."

Lyndis shrank back, her eyes wide. She had never seen it that way before.

"Though I understand the way you feel, there is still a great difference between us, Lyndis. I fought for nothing more than myself…I killed simply for my own selfishness. But you fought for what you believed in…you fought to protect those you loved. If it were not for your efforts, all of Elibe would be nothing but ashes. Would not the Marquess of Caelin be happier with the knowledge that it was his daughter who saved his land?"

"Renault, I…" Lyndis smiled and wiped away her tears. "I thank you. You…you're the first person who ever said anything like that to me."

As he looked at her face, Renault could see her smile was genuine. For the first time since her grandfather's death, the young woman could feel something other than grief. "There's no need to thank me. As I said, it was merely my responsibility." The bishop smiled. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lyn…it truly means much to me. But I believe I should continue my pilgrimage as soon as possible…I have…a long road ahead of me."

He began to stand up, but suddenly, Lyndis hugged him with all of her might. "Wait, Renault!" she cried. "Please…don't leave yet. Stay with me…stay close to me…just for a while…just for this night…"

"Lyn?" The startled bishop began, but he saw words would be fruitless. He could do nothing more than return the girl's embrace. And as he did, he saw that his worst premonitions had come to pass.

She loved him.

And as he held her in his arms, Renault realized he loved her as well. She was the first person he had ever been able to talk so freely with, and he was the first man she was able to open her heart to. He felt more content next to this kindhearted plainswoman than he ever had before, and within his embrace, Lyndis was allowed to feel the affection and love fate had denied her for years.

Renault held Lyndis closer to him, and she offered no resistance. He felt her soft, luxurious skin, her hands caressing the taut flesh of his back. He felt the warmth of her breath upon his neck, and he felt the heat of her firm breasts against his chest. The girl's pliant, supple body bent within his arms, guided by his will. For the first time in centuries, the bishop's cheeks flushed with red, and he realized he could have this woman.

It had been a very, very long time since Renault had enjoyed any sort of carnal pleasure, and this was perhaps the first time a woman was giving herself to him of her own volition. And would it truly be such a terrible thing to accept her advances? The bishop had wandered for years on his solitary pilgrimage. He had lived the austere life of a clergyman long enough. Was he not allowed a single night of bliss?

Yet the bishop knew the answer would inevitably be no. Wherever he felt Lyn's delicate, skin, his gnarled, callused hands left tiny lacerations in their wake. As he felt the warmth of Lyndis' breath, he felt the chill of his own. The Sacaen's rich, loamy scent filled his nostrils, but underneath it was Renault's own aroma, the dry, dusty odor of secrets best left forgotten, and the noxious, sinister stench of forbidden texts best left closed. Holding this innocent girl in his arms, Renault was reminded of the humanity he had long since sacrificed, and as her fingers entwined themselves through his robes, he was reminded of the priestly vows he had taken.

He was a wanderer, condemned to be forever separated from the mass of humanity. He could never make this poor girl happy, and it would be cruel of him to continue the farce.

Renault simply held Lyndis, no more. She didn't mind. And after a while, her eyes closed with drowsiness rather than rapture, and her breath eased and slowed into a soft, steady rhythm. The bishop smiled, stood up, and gently laid the sleeping girl upon her bed. He lightly kissed her forehead, and silently exited out into the night.

"The plains are even more beautiful at night," Renault murmured to himself. The soft wind lavished him with its soothing touch, and the constellations glimmering above formed a starlit tapestry in the clear night sky. The silver light of the moon basked all the plains in an argent sheen, and the bishop felt a twinge of sadness as he realized he would never share a sight like this with Lyndis. He shook his head, accepting his fate as the truly righteous path. As he returned to his pilgrimage, only the moon and stars bore witness to his departure. The only traces of his existence he left behind him were his footprints tramped into the yielding grass, and after a while, the wind wiped even these away.


End file.
